The convoy overnights at the village of Shámshevo. Pierre has a vivid dream depicting the nature of God and Life. In the morning, the village is captured by Denísov and Dólokhov. Pierre weeps for joy. Pétya is buried.
The convoy overnights at the village of Shámshevo. Pierre has a vivid dream depicting the nature of God and Life. In the morning, the village is captured by Denísov and Dólokhov. Pierre weeps for joy. Pétya is buried.
Book 14, Chapter 15
The convoy overnights at the village of Shámshevo. Pierre has a vivid dream depicting the nature of God and Life. In the morning, the village is captured by Denísov and Dólokhov. Pierre weeps for joy. Pétya is buried.
Summary:
That evening the convoy stops for the night in the village of Shámshevo. Pierre has an amazing vivid dream depicting the nature of God and Life. Life is everything. Life is God. Everything changes and moves and that movement is God. And while there is life there is joy in consciousness of the divine. To love life is to love God,” dreams Pierre. Waking up, he sees Platón’s dog. Pierre was just on the point of realizing that Karatáev had been killed when his mind drifted to another memory, pleasant but seemingly unrelated. In the morning, the village is captured by the partisan forces of Denísov and Dólokhov. The hussars and Cossacks crowded round the prisoners; one offered them clothes, another boots, and a third bread. Pierre sobbed as he sat among them. He hugged the first soldier who approached him, and kissed him, weeping. Dólokhov stood at the gate of the ruined house, overseeing a crowd of disarmed Frenchmen passing by. Denísov, bareheaded and with a gloomy face, walked behind some Cossacks who were carrying the body of Pétya Rostóv to a hole that had been dug in the garden.
quote from the chapter:
This globe was alive-a vibrating ball without fixed dimensions. Its whole surface consisted of drops closely pressed together, and all these drops moved and changed places, sometimes several of them merging into one, sometimes one dividing into many. Each drop tried to spread out and occupy as much space as possible, but others striving to do the same compressed it, sometimes destroyed it, and sometimes merged with it.
That is life, said the old teacher.
How simple and clear it is, thought Pierre. How is it I did not know it before?
God is in the midst, and each drop tries to expand so as to reflect Him to the greatest extent. And it grows, merges, disappears from the surface, sinks to the depths, and again emerges. There now, Karatáev has spread out and disappeared. Do you understand, my child? said the teacher.
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